In my dreams, my hands turned into wings. Flapping these wings, I flew up and soared in the clouds. Through the thin layers of clouds, I could see a long, long river flowing gently down. The water in the river was not yellowish and muddy but as blue as the colour of a mountain range and the sea.

That river was the Irrawaddy. Though the water in the river didn't look muddy, I was quite sure it was the Irrawaddy.

"How did you know that it was Irrawaddy?" My father asked me with a smile. He seemed to have expected a number of answers from me such as ...

"Of course, I knew it was Irrawaddy. Because I could see the Sagaing Bridge,"

Or

"I could see the place where Dutthawaddy River joined in with the Irrawaddy. And I could also see Ava down there. So it was the Irrawaddy,"

Or

"Well, father, at a far distance, I could also see the fortress of Thabyaydan. If it was not the Irrawaddy, what else?"

Father might have expected such answers in which the location of the Irrawaddy River was somehow associated with the places I had visited before.

However, my answers were quite contrary to all these,

"In my dreams, I heard the flow of the Irrawaddy River. For a long time, I could even have a talk with the Irrawaddy. Its metallic voice is still ringing in my ears!"

Father smiled and punched me lightly with his fists. Father seemed to acknowledge that his own son was more sentimental towards the Irrawaddy than himself.

Nobody except my father could know from his heart how I was deeply attached to the Irrawaddy, because father was the one who taught and trained me gradually how to love the Irrawaddy.

At the age of two, my father first introduced me to the regional geography, that is about the Irrawaddy. Since the first time I started walking with unsteady steps on the loosely organised bamboo floor of our house, I could see the rafts, boats and motor boats coming and going in the Irrawaddy. Since I was a little baby when my mother carried me around on her hips, I had opportune moments to have a swim in the Irrawaddy. I was so scared of drowning when my mother warned me not to go swimming in the river alone by myself and explained to me what drowning was like. In such a case, father was the one who encouraged me not to be afraid.

The Irrawaddy was my daddy's friend. It was the friend of my grandfather. So it had become my friend too.

At the age of three, father taught me how to swim - at four he taught me how to fish - at five, he made a little wooden oar and taught me how to row a boat. Every time before I went to bed, father told me about the Irrawaddy River and about the stories which took place in the past. Those stories were not about the princes and princesses. Father was not interested in such tales.

Whenever he spoke about the time of the story, he would say almost definately about it, "About 1020 years ago ...", "About 500 years ago ...", etc.
The heroes in his stories were sometimes portrayed as the brave ones - sometimes they were the smart ones who were full of tricks, though their tactics might be different from each other.

As I listened to his stories, my mind went back to the past - about 500 years ago - about 300 years ago and so on. I could imagine a battle in which the soldiers with swords and spears, riding horses and elephants engaged in feirce fights. That night in my dream, I could see the water of the Irrawaddy all red with blood. I was shocked. Then father would explain, "In the long course of history and in the successive years, rebellions broke out and many battles were fought along the Irrawaddy for possession. From the point of view of the modern people, these battles might be meaningless. But we cannot judge and say in this way about the things of the past. Sometimes people had to fight as required by the situation of the time. What I mean is we have no right to look down up the ancient people of the pre-historic age, going around naked, hunting for food, and eating raw fish and meat. Today things are different from those of the prehistoric age. Nevertheless, people change. But they chance very slowly and the develop gradually."

"Well, son, do you know what I mean," Father asked. I did not say a word, but just stared. I wanted to become a bird suddenly and fly away back to the past, and look what was happening there.

Father had created a situation so that I might leave the Irrawaddy. Then he sent me to Rangoon, far away from the Irrawaddy, to study there.

I was sad. When I said I did not mind being an uneducated person if only I could have an opportunity to look after my father and mother by being a fisherman like him. Father was deeply moved too.

"My father's father, your great grandfather was a fisherman. Your grandfather was a fisherman and I am too. And, if you, my son are a fisherman, then the story of the Irrawaddy would only be a very dull and ugly one."

"People of long ago who lived along the Irrawaddy were involved in wars. Ridding their horses and elephants, fighting battles with their swords and spears, for their survival, for the possession of the Irrawaddy, for the possession of the Irrawaddy, for the protecting of this great river. They wrote these stories in which they featured themselves and let us know all about them. We have to carry on this heritage. We have to continue to write this history, the story of Irrawaddy. Now we have possessed the Irrawaddy. The Irrawaddy has become well known like any other famous rivers in the world. We need to beautify the Irrawaddy."

"Historical heroes had used various strategies and tactics in their own time. Today, the Irrawaddy has had enough of creating people into warriors who excel in the art of war. The Irrawaddy needs lots of sons and daughters who can adapt to the ever changing environment in which they live and develop successfully with all their skills and knowledge."

"Listen to me, son. When you grow up, you must create the stories of the Irrawaddy in the same way. Of course, those stories must be the ones in which you yourself are involved. My father's face appeared to be calm and yet serious. From my heart, I promised him that I would do the same. But these stories must be my own stories in which I myself am involved, not the stories in which my father is involved."

I was deeply impressed by a Japanese motor car company which I saw on the television. I imagined that I had built a motor car factory in the village in which I lived. I thought the Irrawaddy could have smiled at me for that.

I am absolutely confident that I have the ability and power to create such a beautiful story about the Irrawaddy in which I myself will be involved.